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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23089999">out the looking glass</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrow_key/pseuds/sorrow_key'>sorrow_key</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>PH Month 19 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pandora Hearts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A Verschlimmbesserung of canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, aka: Alice Swap Verse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:02:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23089999</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrow_key/pseuds/sorrow_key</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>No. No, no, no. Nothing of yours. He is nothing to you except another's memory. She can only be you and you her if she is there, but you're alone, alone, alone. You can’t call her memory yours like this.</p><p>Golden Trio, Prompt: Remembrance. In which the trio does return from the Abyss... for the most part.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>PH Month 19 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>out the looking glass</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Wrong, wrong, wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something is wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You breathe an air of rot, familiar, familiar, but not the same. Not the same at all. You look around with a shy hesitance you haven't felt in a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's it. You are. You are what's wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oz? Alice?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You turn and find a gold-eyed man with a painful hope in his voice, shape, the tears in his eyes as he calls out in this doorway, this wisp of a place. The servant boy, from so long ago. Someone had called him seaweed head, but it hadn't been you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before you know it, before you can realise what you feel in your soul and shatter from it, he storms over and presses you close, empty sleeve soft on your cheek as his arm embraces the one next to you. The boy who isn't him, isn't the one you yearn for. Your dearest rabbit. Your man-servant, named by you. Oz. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. No, no, no. Nothing of yours. He is nothing to you except another's memory. She can only be you and you her if she is there, but you're alone, alone, alone. You can’t call her memory yours like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You've realised, now. This means you shatter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You cry and you scream and their embrace is warm and not yours, so you thrash in it until you are separate and alone, and nothing cries and thrashes with you; no puppets, no world. This isn't your world. This isn't your life. You are finally free and you should not </span>
  <b>be</b>
  <span> here, you shouldn't, you can’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How can it be you be here when she isn't? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you okay, Alice?" "What's wrong, you stupid rabbit?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>These two look at you. So do the others - sidelined, as before, comes the thought, unbidden. You are looked on. You aren't seen, though. Poor, poor Alice. Poor, poor sister. You hate them suddenly, for not recognising her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"....You are Alice, right?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just what she'd expect from her manservant! Unlike stupid seaweed-head who's still hovering all uselessly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>These thoughts aren't yours. They too are nothing but all too ingrained memories. You embrace them still; it's like hearing your sister once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes," you say through your tears, toneless and bleak.  You've always retreated when you couldn't rage. Someone always found you. "But I'm not your Alice." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake and you can’t stop. You don't want to steal her life, you've stolen enough things from her! You and her are always scattered, but you'd stopped being lost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now you're lost again and from their stricken faces, so are they. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You have freedom, you have memories; but it's always, always been the wrong kind. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Cross posting this train ride ficlet from tumblr... only like half a year after writing. C'est la vie, I guess</p><p>Layered title names bring me joy</p></blockquote></div></div>
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